


insomnia

by allechant



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25203691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allechant/pseuds/allechant
Summary: it was time to make a choice between facing her nightmares and facing her demons.
Relationships: Belphegor/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 102





	insomnia

She opened her eyes with a sigh, turning towards the clock placed on her bedside table. The fluorescent numbers glowed in the darkness. Hardly anything had changed since her last check.

It was four in the morning and she couldn’t sleep. The House of Lamentation was quiet; even Lucifer, the insomniac workaholic, had turned in for the night. She should know. This wouldn’t be the first time she whiled the night away, waiting for the brothers to rise for breakfast.

Sleep rarely came easily to her, even when she was in the human world. There was too much going on inside her head. Too much noise. Her thoughts and worries clamoured nonstop, and while she had grown used to tuning them out, they always grew louder when night fell.

She knew that at this timing, there was only one brother who could still be awake. The only one who might understand what she meant when she said that she couldn’t sleep.

Belphegor. The seventh-born, the Avatar of Sloth. Belphie, who so often wandered the house in the middle of the night, staring out of the window at the moon, studying the starless sky.

Her phone was right next to her clock. She reached for it, then hesitated. Would Belphie mind if she disturbed him? She didn’t know him well. Would she be intruding on his personal space?

But her searching fingers found the edge of her phone anyway, and the screen flickered to life. In the darkness, it was almost blinding. She squinted through the glare, opening the message tab and scanning through her chats – Belphie’s was the third on her screen.

For a moment, she thought about whether or not she ought to be texting him. She could just put her phone down now and try to go back to sleep. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone, and she was sure she’d be able to fall asleep eventually.

But then some unexplainable feeling seized her and her fingers began to move across the screen. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was plain, simple desperation. Maybe it was just that she hadn’t slept properly in weeks and she should have asked for help long before she hit this point.

Either way, a mysterious force _compelled_ her to reach out to him, a force strong enough that it overrode the fear that always gripped her at the thought of the seventh-born.

He had been trying to make it up to her, she knew that. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate his effort. She truly did. But even if he kept giving her those charming smiles, even if he spent the whole day doting on her every whim and fancy, she couldn’t help but remember the feeling of his claws sinking deep into her flesh, the murderous intent that gleamed in his eyes.

The pain never went away, not really. It tainted the skin, a memory that sank and nestled within her very bones. If she had her way, if she was able to seek help from anyone else, she would – but there was no one. And she was desperate. She yearned to close her eyes and sink into the escape that was unconsciousness; by now, her dreams were becoming little more than a distant memory.

She sent the text, wondering how long it would take before she received a reply. But she didn’t have to wonder – he replied almost instantly, saying she could come to his room if she wanted to, or he could come to hers.

She made up her mind within seconds. Belphie should come to her room. If she went over, they might wake Beel, and then he’d probably head down to the kitchen and empty the fridge again. It was exhausting enough trying to deal with her insomnia.

Minutes later, she heard a knock on the door. She clambered off the bed, her heart jumping to her throat – when she opened the door, there he stood, holding onto his favourite pillow, his eyes half-lidded with sleep. He had the same violet-pink eyes as Beel. Such lovely eyes.

Before she came to the Devildom, she’d never have believed that someone like Belphie would be able to commit murder. He was so beautiful, with his delicate features and his gentle smile, his silky hair that was so dark it looked almost blue. How could someone like Belphie ever hurt another being? But she knew better now. Her chest ached with unwanted memories.

“Well, you asked for me, so here I am,” he mumbled, yawning as he spoke. “Be grateful for this – I don’t help just anyone with their insomnia, you know.” His smile was half-hearted; she could barely force a smile in return. Her fingers trembled as she stared at him, and she clutched onto the door, hoping he wouldn’t notice. She didn’t want to be scared. She shouldn’t have to be.

But her body remembered. The aftermath of their terrible, violent intimacy echoed through her, and her heart thudded in her chest. The heart was such a weak, fragile thing. An unwanted reminder of how she had collapsed at his touch, how his demonic strength could so easily rend her apart. In his arms, she was nothing more than a paper doll. Weak, useless, completely defenceless.

He didn’t say a word. He just waited for her, patient, unflinching. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. He was different now. She glanced down at her chest, covered by the thin fabric of her pyjamas. Belphie’s pact mark was placed right over her heart, a cruel reminder of where he had once maimed her – how ironic, that the proof of their bond was located there now.

Finally, she stepped aside, allowing him to enter her room. Wordlessly, she went over to her bed, shifting some cushions so that there was space for him before she laid down, giving him an expectant look. Belphie didn’t need a second invitation – he curled up beside her, and his touch was gentle, his soft voice murmuring lullabies, his fingers twirling through her hair.

He had the delicate hands of an artist, and they were beautiful.

It occurred to her that it was strange to think of her would-be killer as anything but terrifying. Yet he was undeniably beautiful, and his smile was tender. It was a far cry from what things were like all those months ago when he had spoken to her through the door of the attic.

Sometimes, she thought about how gullible and trusting she had been, and she’d wonder if things would have been any different if she had just heeded Lucifer’s warnings. Then maybe she wouldn’t have ended up bleeding her heart out. But it was too late for regrets – and anyway, her death and revival had helped the brothers to patch up their relationship. That was good, right? If she hadn’t come along, who knew how long Belphie would be stuck in the attic.

And things were different now. She didn’t have to be afraid anymore, not with the pacts she had collected, not with the way Belphie treated her. Still, fear was an irrational, unconscious thing and it lingered in the back of her mind, never quite releasing its grip on her.

She found her eyelids steadily lowering as Belphie continued to hum. He had such a soothing voice, one that reminded her of her mother rocking her to sleep as a child. Her mind and body were heavy, and she felt the gentle waves of sleep calling to her, washing up against the shore of her consciousness. It would be nice if she could just let go and sink into the melody he wove for her. She turned towards Belphie, instinctively seeking his warmth, and his fingers paused for a moment before he resumed running his hand through her hair, still humming gently.

He allowed her to rest her head on his shoulder as he waited for her to fall asleep, and he finally stopped humming when he sensed her breathing change, becoming slow and steady. He cast his gaze towards the ceiling, his fingers stilling in her hair. Sometimes, he forgot how fragile she was – in the moments when their fingertips brushed, or when they bumped into each other in the hallway, he could hear the blood flowing in her veins, hear the unsteady beat of her heart and he’d realise just how mortal she was. How easily she could live, how easily she could die.

He forgot that for humans, death was an irrevocable sentence. She was not like his brothers, who could all withstand pain, who brushed away life-threatening injuries as though they were little more than scratches. When humans got stabbed through the heart with claws sharper than knives, they wouldn’t bounce back, taunting their enemies with their fangs bared.

She would simply…die. She’d crumple to the floor like a butterfly with its wings torn off, blood spreading across her chest, dripping in puddles onto the ground. She’d smell like death and her body would cool so rapidly that he wondered if she was ever really _real,_ or if this entire time she was nothing but a mannequin, easily fooled, easily manipulated into doing everything he wanted.

He thought that he’d find deliverance in her death, that he would finally be able to avenge Lilith, but when he killed the human, he just felt…hollow.

Even now, he still wasn’t sure how he felt about the truth. How he felt about the situation they found themselves in. He knew it was his fault that she was afraid of him now; she showed no sign of fear towards his brothers, only him. It was almost funny. He was the seventh-born, the weakest of the seven princes of hell, and yet he was the one she feared the most.

But he was willing to wait. He wanted to make amends. It was due to his prejudice that things had ended up this way, and until she was willing to forgive him, he’d simply continue trying.

She was Lilith’s descendant, after all. Some part of his precious little sister lived on in this girl, this mortal who was the most fragile thing he’d ever seen – and even if she wasn’t related to Lilith, she still fascinated him. Anyone Beel liked enough to share his food with had to be decent. Perhaps he was mistaken about humans. Or maybe it was just her. He couldn’t be sure.

When he looked at her slumbering face, something about it helped him to find some measure of peace. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time. For once he _wanted_ to sleep; he wanted to lay his head down and close his eyes, not because he was the Avatar of Sloth but simply because she was beside him, and there was something unspeakably soothing about her presence.

He would continue to try and continue to wait. One day she might let down her guard around him, the same way she did for his brothers. He had never been particularly patient, but he was willing to wait for her. It was the least he could do to make up for what he had done.

**Author's Note:**

> based on one of my twt threads hahaha i just wanted to write something quick today
> 
> yell at me on [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/dontenchantme)


End file.
